𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘: 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝

Chapter 4: Quinton Acosta

QUINTON|

I'D NEVER BOUGHT A TICKET TO A FOOTBALL GAME BEFORE. Let alone to one I had no business being at, was five thousand miles away and I'd gone to without the stamp of approval from my dad. But after the discussion with my brothers and self inflicted endless torture supplied by the hundreds of Miller's clips. I'd bought my three tickets on a whim, to see the him play. He was the new Captain and soon I was joining his team-the Rafters. So I paid for the three tickets, one to their game and the other two tickets for my flight and return across the thousand of miles between Los Angeles to Miami.

The stadium was filled; with loud spectators in war face paint, glitter face paint and various team merchandise.

"Go, go, go Rafters!" The cheerleaders chanted with hype from below. Perfect white smiles, faces in glitter paint, blue ribbon held ponytails and skin everywhere despite their blue cheer uniforms. "Go, go Rafters!"

I moved swiftly until I got to my seat in the front and more private corner of the third row. The ticket to this seat had cost me my ego but it was better this way. In this seat where I felt safe no one would recognize me. Five minutes before the game began a male figure wearing a plain Nike jacket over his arm made his way down to sit in the second seat right below my direct periphery. I wouldn't have paid mind to the guy in the low cap if it wasn't for the cologne he had on. It wasn't too much but it was there and it smelled sexy and after the game I knew I would probably hit on him. For the house of eu de perfume he was wearing or for other activities.

"Miller!" someone called out within the crowd.

Immediately the guy flinched as if to cower away from his own name. At the same time, poorly concealed whispers lifted off the warm air with people wondering 'why the Rafters captain was in the stadium and not with the team on the bench?' I was wondering the same too, because he was the reason I'd flown over five thousand miles to this game. Others in the crowd pitifully wondered out loud how much injury his arm had taken and if he would ever come back from it. That's when I remembered watching the last game he'd played; he'd tripped on nothing and one report from the Miami college blog said he'd suffered a clavicle fracture. However, the Bleacher's report; the most cutthroat college sports blog in the country. Hadn't spoken on it since so I assumed the fracture hadn't been that serious, for him to sit out a game.

I heaved a sigh chastising myself for flying out here for nothing if he wasn't playing. My gaze flickered down the rows assessing my exit strategy, I saw two easy ways to leave but before I could think on it more. A a ruckus noise filled the side of the stadium I was in. When I looked up, I saw myself on the large kisscam. I felt my jaw tense, the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention, a cold chill ran though my spine at being recognized. My heart stopped then picked up again a second later with some relief when I saw that I hadn't been the focus. Quickly I lowered my cap and leaned forward to make sure that my dreads were giving me enough shade to conceal my identity.

As I was doing so the camera followed it's actual focus subject to the seat Miller had sat in.

It zoomed in on him and the stadium filled with applause and chants that lasted a minute too long of the Captain's name. It was bizarre because despite sitting the game out in the spectator stands the cheerleaders below began to scream out his name. "Wentworth! Wentworth!Wentworth!" A few of them did cartwheels and backflips for him before they all got in form and performed.

Performed!

A whole cheer routine just for him and his teammates didn't even seem like they had a problem with that. I felt a peculiar sort of emotion rise up out of me. It was a string of envy interwoven with admiration for the quarterback. I was a great player yet that had never happened to me. Well I'd never had to sit a game out before too but I knew that in the case that I did. No cheerleader I knew would perform a routine for me. Most cheerleaders I knew understandably didn't like me, I'd either led on their brothers or best friends.